


The Legende of the Bloud Knight and Spece Sylphe

by arbitraryspace



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Iambic Pentameter, Moirallegiance, Pale Romance, spenserian stanza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitraryspace/pseuds/arbitraryspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>W Herein the author does relate an antique historie of blest Moirallegiance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Legende of the Bloud Knight and Spece Sylphe

**Author's Note:**

> Profuse apologies to Edmund Spenser.

THE FOURTH  
BOOKE OF THE

PRANKSTERE KING.

 _Contayning,_

THE LEGENDE OF THE BLOUD KNIGHT AND SPECE SYLPHE,  
 _or_  
OF MOIRALLEGIANCE.

 

It falles me here to write of Moirallegiance,  
N Ought less than Cvpid’s noblest purview;  
The most blest of staytes, bringing teperance  
Of passion with the soverine grace of vertue;  
In that heavenlie Londe of Winde & Shayde,  
A Common-weale rul’d by frend-shippe's facilitie,  
The alliance of faytes was oftenne made,  
But onlie once from syrendipitie;  
A diamonde mined in rough, of brilliant raritie.

 

 _Canto 1._

 _The Bloud Knight is here dispatcht  
vnto desert and ruin,  
to pvrsue the Sylphe of rumour  
and thus amuse his soevrn_

 

In the antique times, of which I doe invoke,  
The Londe we love so well could find no quiete,  
Fore when ere the Princess and Bloud Knight spoke,  
Their bickering did rvn jovyeovs riot;  
The Bloud Knight would most ceaselessly project  
His voice, without the gallantry to yield,  
And Princess Jayde odd passions did collect,  
As gentler maydes pick flowers from the field;  
No stone walles could kep their dred exchaunge concealed.

The Prankstere King hisself was long accustom’d  
To battles of balladrie and rude merriment;  
In his presence the troubled soul succumb’d  
To frend-shippe, and became a celeberant;  
But came the day when that good Prankstere King  
Found his storyes disrupted as they spun,  
If the tayles of Cage’d Nicholas would ring,  
Then urgentlie some action muste be donne;  
He summoned the faybled Bloud Knight to him anon.

‘Men tell me of a Spece Sylphe,’ quoth the King.  
‘Who doth cause terror for the peasantrie’  
‘Mine olde frend: ride forth now to seek this thing’  
‘Let trauvel chill your self with pleasantrie.’  
‘O King,’ said the Knight in disdainefull wise,  
‘Your speech is like leavings of a drauft horse;’  
‘Your tayles of the Sylphe are accursed lies,’  
‘The winde-sweppt hollow of your mynde their sovrce;’  
At this, the Prankstere King fell into mirthe, of covrse.

The Bloud Knight did set forth that verie morn,  
Annoyuance shrine-ed in his knightly brest;  
He did not need vacances fromme the norm;  
Loathe was he to humovr the prankstere’s jest;  
And so did he determine to ryde alle daye  
Cross dark forrest and vnto desert light  
Vn Till he founde somme peasanterie to say  
There were no tayles of any Sylphe to cite;  
But nonne would their belov'd Prankstere King indict.

Afterre a dozen dayes and nights did passe,  
The Bloud Knight felle vnto a mood he knew  
Too well, wherein his pryde fractur’d like glass  
And hatred forre the self of his past grew;  
He tarried long in shayde of rvined towre  
And prodded his camp-fyre with listelesnesse;  
Nearly did he retvrn to home that hour  
When a mayde emerg’d from the wildernesse;  
Verily, the Bloud Knight took up staunce to aggress.

 

 _Canto 2._

 _The Bloud Knight mets a fierce mayde  
And falles vnto pittie,  
They hvnt the Sylphe togethuer  
Vnder faulse identitie_

The mayde was in colorfull bloud couver’d,  
The wett stains on her frock akin to art;  
She look’d by turns murderous & fluster’d,  
Her violence gripp’d at the Bloud Knight’s hart;  
The fell mayde, in tern, felt a calm most strange,  
Round this disaustre that styled hisself knight;  
She stayed herself from motion to stryfe range  
And press’d her lips to showe she wold not byt;  
Suche was the powre of grey pitie at first sight.

Moon’s light beat down vpon them, full & pale;  
The Bloud Knight did slowly sheathe his sickle;  
Quoth he, ‘Mayde, I have come here on the trayl’  
‘Of a faulse Sylphe, so if you can be civil,’  
‘And not hunte game with such rude abandon,’  
‘Like one who does whiff the stench of nooke,’  
‘Then I might request your companie anon;’  
‘If you would wish, that is, you can help look.’  
The Bloud Knight’s voice with vncommon nervousenesse shook.

‘The Slyphe is mythicall,’ agreed the mayde,  
‘I stayte this with boundlesse sinceritie;’  
‘Howver, should you think you need myne aid,’  
‘T Is correct: you are a calamitie;’  
So did the Bloud Knight and the mayde ally  
To hunt wyld goose, and combat lonelinesse;  
The Bloud Knight did to his hair a comb apply;  
And the mayde did cleanse her abattoir dress;  
With finery attayned, they presst on to success.

They ventured first vnto the towne of Nak  
To exchange paper, as was the local custom;  
Then further onne, they were takene aback;  
When they did find a secret wizard covven;  
They beheld the fashionn of the robes arcayne,  
And ner the temple, fetch’d sacred froggespawn;  
The Bloud Knight ever preaching his disdayne;  
W Hile the fair mayde grew slowlie lesse withdrawn;  
The Bloud Knight's thovghts of the Spece Sylphe were nearly gonne.

Knight and mayde continued to aduentvre  
Through summer’s ende, and well vnto the falle;  
But even a sleplesse Knight must surelie tire  
And the mayde could not wearinesse forestall;  
‘Reside in mine home,’ the Bloud Knight offr’d,  
‘There is no Sylphe to fight: this Londe is free;’  
The mayde’s brow turn’d sorrowfull & awkward;  
‘Dear Knight,’ she said ‘your wish: it cannot be;’  
‘Your quarry was ne'er faulse: the Spece Sylphe is me.”

 

 _Canto 3._

 _The Knight and Sylphe do aggress  
Courting tragedie  
Til they comme to their senses  
And thus live happilie_

 

With heavy hart, the Bloud Knight did advaunce  
His sickle drawn for sake of grim dutie;  
He aggress’d the Sylphe as though caught in traunce;  
His ruby eyes bloud-shot & watterie;  
The Sylphe, beinge of Spece, sidestepp’d attack,  
And offer’d the Bloud Knight a handkerchief;  
The Bloud Knight tooke a momente to steppe back,  
And daube at his fayce to counter his grief;  
The courtesies of the Sylphe brought him no relief.

‘Wold you like to talk it oute,’ the Sylphe said  
As she drew herre axe, ‘You could be verie hurt;’  
‘You know that I do not desire you dead’  
‘Also, your tears do stayn your nicest shirt;’  
“Siluance,’ quoth the Bloud Knight, ‘this is a duel,’  
‘Of gret importance & seriousnesse;’  
But, verily, his righteovsness lack’d fuel  
And his skills loste the usual finesse;  
To hit the Spece Sylph wold perforce cause himme distresse.

In Steade, the Bloud Knight’s strykes did turne to paps;  
His manfull war-cry vnto shoosh did fayde;  
The Sylphe, long pacifyed, allow’d this lapse;  
Forre better shoosh and pap than a tirayde;  
She caught him in a hugge and held him tight,  
Saying, ‘have you any way to make this worke;’  
'Cease your folly,' order'd the tearefull Knight,  
‘Forgette alle this, and comme to Court, you jerke;’  
‘Yea,’ said the Sylphe, for his protection she'd not shirk.

Mean While, the Prankstere’s Court had sorelie missed  
The Bloud Knight, who was known as frend to alle,  
And so his feare of censure was dismissed,  
When he return-ed to present his moirail;  
Laughed the King ‘You astonishe & impresse’  
‘Your prankstere’s gambit has ris’n offe the hooke’  
‘Where it was tethered, that beinge churlishnesse;‘  
‘I am so proud: doe not stompe off, but looke!’  
The King would kep his palm raised til the bait took.

The Knight dares’t not leave his soevrn hanging;  
Honour told him to raise arm and proffer five;  
So he did, along with a harangving,  
For having been kept so long from his hive;  
The Spece Sylphe hersself had founde distraction,  
Exaumining the Ladies of the Londe;  
But once the Prankstere King had satisfaction,  
She sensed the Bloud Knight’s desire to abscond;  
And so she curtseyed, and smyled, and held his hand.


End file.
